Preggers
by IlluminatedShadow
Summary: Or, alternatively titled, why Alfred should always be prepared with condoms. Alfred/Matthew


This story was inspired by a little convo I had with my wifey (you know who you are and this is all your fault XD). This basically is one big joke with no redeeming qualities and before you guys run the other way because of the warnings...remember...Its not what you think.

Just go with it.

I'm a horrible person.

Someone take my computer away.

For the children's sake.

Warnings: slash, language, OOC-ness, crack, nonsense, mpreg (...ahahaha...not really but you'll see), fail

Pairing: Alfred/Matthew

Disclaimer: Thank goodness I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

"You inconsiderate bastard!" Matthew snarled, kicking Alfred square in the gut. "First you try to lube me up with maple syrup and ruin my sheets in the process—" here he paused to wave angrily at the once pristine white sheets, now sticky with the sugary syrup thanks to the bottle Alfred has accidently up-ended in the middle of the bed, "even though I _told_ you it was a stupid idea—and now you honestly think I'm going to let you fuck me without a condom? _Tabernak_!"

"Well, yeah." Alfred said, feeling quite small. The superpower was currently crouching in front of his northern neighbor, trying to pin Matthew's legs so the Canadian couldn't kick him in the face or crotch. "It'll be awesome."

"You hoser!" Matthew snapped, snatching the lonely pillow next to his head and smacking his near twin upside the head. "You selfish, stupid, fat dummy!" He punctuated each insult with another _thump_ of the pillow.

"Okay, okay, Matt." Alfred frowned, blue eyes a little hurt behind his spectacles. "You know I'm sensitive about my weight." Then he grabbed the pillow and tossed it behind him, continuing in a condescendingly patient voice. "Is this because my girls beat your girls at the Four Nations tournament? Because that's not fair, brosideon."

"No! This is about you being an STD-ridden _putain_ and me not wanting your diseases." The younger nation snapped, tone icy.

"…You're still mad about that thing with Mexico? I'm telling you Mattie, she just sneaks in sometimes!" The American whined, muffling a curse when one of Matthew's legs came free and his foot caught Alfred right under the ribs.

"Go get a condom." Matthew grumbled, crossing his arms.

Now, Alfred could very well put on a pair of pants and job to the nearest convenience store or gas station.

He could also just flip Matthew over and tell him to "suck it up, sweetheart".

Of course, the last time he did that, he had to rebuild and repaint the White House.

He'd really rather not have to do that again, so, really, he should've just gone and got the damn condoms and a couple extra boxes to prevent future incidents.

But he was the United States of America, goddamn it. He was not whipped. Hell to the no.

He wasn't going to give in on principle.

"No." He said sternly. "We do it my way, or the highway, babe."

Matthew just looked at him, head tilted, golden hair spread out around his unimpressed face. "Oh?" He said lightly, quirking an eyebrow. "Fine." He shrugged, untangling himself from the filthy sheets and getting to his feet.

"Fine?"

"Fine."

Alfred just stared as his neighbor tugged on his boxers and then his baggy jeans. "Fine?" He repeated, a bit stupidly.

Matthew finished buttoning his jeans and just smiled sweetly. "No condom, no sex." He blew his errant curl away from between his eyes. "Get condoms, get sex."

"But…I want sex." The older nation scrambled off the bed, still painfully erect.

Why the previous struggle didn't cool his loins, he didn't know and he wasn't about to dwell on it lest his brother use that in the future to tease him.

"Get condoms." Matthew was making his way to the door.

He blocked his brother's route to the doorway, adding indignantly. "You can't just show up at my house with pizza and beer, kiss me on the couch, suck me off during half-time, let me experiment with maple syrup with you, and then deny me sex!" He pointed accusingly at Matthew, who was getting bored. "Vile temptress!"

His brother just sighed. "I wasn't even planning for anything more tonight—I was just trying to give you a nice break since you've been cooped up in your office for the past few weeks (doing work finally). And I can just suck you off again, if you want Al. I just don't like having unprotected anal penetration."

"But…but…then you shouldn't be giving blow jobs without a condom!" Alfred crowed, more intent on beating his brother's argument than the ramifications of his statement.

Matthew just stared at his brother hard. "Fine." He said curtly. "Then no blow job either, _babe_."

Then he shouldered past a frozen in shock Alfred.

* * *

"Its just not the same!" Alfred lamented, falling back against the sticky sheets with a frustrated grunt. He glared spitefully at his erection that had refused to be abated by masturbation. "You always did like to cause problems, Florida." The blond scolded. "You'd better not fuck me over for another eight years, fuckers."

His cock, if only to piss him off further, hardened even more and turned an irritated shade of plum, precum beading at the tip.

"Fuckers." Alfred repeated, letting his blond head thump against the mattress. "I should've just gone to get condoms…"

With an expression that was most definitely not a pout, the superpower reached over to his nightstand, tugged open the drawer and pulled out a half-eaten bag of cheesy poofs. With a depressed sigh, he began to shovel them into his mouth.

* * *

"Al! Al! Wake up, brother!" Matthew chided, shaking Alfred with a pout.

Alfred let out a mighty snore, rolling over, the now empty bag of cheesy poofs crinkling beneath him, and murmuring, "Five…five more minutes…Engwand…"

"Alfred!"

"…I'll have extra chili with…those…cheese fries…"

"Alfred!" Matthew glowered, before huffing and pinching the superpower's nose shut.

The superpower flailed, jerking to consciousness and mumbling, "Death over dress." Yawning and smacking his lips together, he squinted and took in sight of a pleasantly naked Matthew. And he promptly scowled. "Haven't you taunted me enough with your luscious body, you shameless hussy?"

"Normally I'd put up more of a fight because I'm a passive-aggressive jerk with daddy issues," Matthew shrugged, languidly crawling onto the mattress and settling on Alfred's lower stomach, teasingly grinding his rear against the other's erection. "but I'll be nice tonight."

Alfred stared at his brother with wide, Pacific blue eyes, most of his coherent thought fleeing his mind. "I like it when you're nice." He replied, voice squeaking when Matthew gave him a smoldering smile, nearly translucent lashes lowered to half-shield his vibrant indigo eyes.

In fact, Matthew seemed unnaturally aglow and ethereal in the moonlight, but Alfred chalked that up to his brother just being really, really ridiculously good-looking.

"And I like being nice to you." Matthew purred, rolling his hips pointedly. "Let me be nice to you all night long."

"B-but what about the condoms?" Alfred murmured, hands already resting on Matthew's hips and hoping that his dead Founding Fathers were watching over him that very moment and that they would understand his urgent need to get laid that very moment and make it so that he could without any trouble (Jefferson, Franklin, don't let me down, he begged).

"Fuck the condoms." The violet-eyed nation laughed, squirming when the other cupped his rear. "I just want you so hard right now. Fuck me stud."

Alfred, wearing a face-splitting all-American boy smile, could only think, "Oh fuck yeah."

* * *

The next morning, Alfred woke up grinning. And, yes, it definitely had something to do with the fact that his favorite nation in the world was naked, in his arms, still wet with his seed, and had just given him some of the best sex in the world (not that he was biased because he adored Matthew and hadn't gotten any action in a few months because the other nations were still pissed at him and he may or may not be in a monogamous something or other with Matthew but just in case he didn't proposition any other nations for a good time).

Life was good.

Matthew, still pressed up against him, murmured something incoherent, nose crinkling cutely before his eyes fluttered open. Then, spying Alfred's gaze, he smiled and said, voice hoarse from screaming (fuck yeah), "I love you."

Correction. Life was great.

Of course, then Matthew said, "I'll go make pancakes and we'll have breakfast in bed." Then, slyly adding, "I'll even serve you naked."

Correction. Life was fucking AWESOME.

* * *

It was a few weeks later, Alfred received a phone call from Arthur.

"Hero of the World speaking. How may I—"

"Take some bloody responsibility for your actions, wanker!" The Englishman's charming voice bellowed. Alfred, with a bemused frown, pulled the speaker from his ear.

"Artie?"

"You stupid bastard! I should've beaten you more as a child. You have no regard for others. You manage muck up everything. He had a bright, bright future before you shattered his hopes and dreams. That's all you're good for, wanker, pissing on hopes and dreams. Matthew isn't some tart that you can just bonk and throw out with the rubbish. He's a good lad, a sweet darling duck who deserves far better than _you_."

The amount of malice Arthur was able to pack into that single word was quite impressive. Clearly, Matthew got his sharp tongue from Arthur.

"—Are you even listening to me, you tit?"

"I wasn't until you mentioned Mattie." Alfred said honestly, smirking when Arthur gave an indignant shout. "What's wrong with my little Canuck?"

"'M not your little Canuck." Came the faint reprimand in the background followed by retching. "Tell him I hate him." Matthew whined petulantly, coughing.

Immediately Alfred perked up, worry gnawing at his insides. "Did something happen to Matthew? Is it bad? Did the Communists get him?"

Images of Ivan cackling madly, dressed head to toe in Soviet regalia with a Hitler-stache, flooded his brain and the superpower shouted, "Quick! Tell me what kind of healthcare he has!"

"I believe its universal." Arthur replied, ignoring Alfred's "No! Its worse than I thought!" and instead moving the phone from his mouth, voice softening, "You'll be right as rain soon enough, lad. Let me finish giving the git what-for and I'll make you a lovely cup of tea with scones." Cue the sound of more vomiting. "Ah, perhaps no scones." The former Empire amended. Then, bringing the phone closer. "Matthew is pregnant." He said flatly.

Alfred, who was in a mid-tirade of Communism and its ties to Satanism, paused and, somewhat blankly, asked, "Matthew's eggo is preggo? As in, he has a bun in the oven?"

"…Is that what it's called these days?" Arthur mused. "Yes, you could say that."

"Who's bun?" Alfred growled, already furious at the thought of anyone impregnating his sort-of boyfriend-thing and Matthew not keeping his legs shut (pfft, doesn't like having unprotected sex, my stars and stripes!).

"Your bun!" He heard Matthew shout in frustration.

"Matthew is having my baby?" Alfred said in awe, not even pausing to think how strange that was. "I'm going to be a daddy?"

"Heaven help us all." Arthur said solemnly. "Because we're all buggered now."

* * *

"I do not know how this is even possible." Francis said, pulling the stethoscope from Matthew's still-flat belly. For some reason or another, the Frenchman was dressed up in a physician's white coat and looking very professional "But I hope it is a girl." His smile turned dreamy. "Can you imagine? She will be _très jolie et charmante et gentille et_—"

"Shut your gob." Arthur snapped. "You will stay far away from here because I will not let my granddaughter become a harlot."

"You think I will stand by and let her become like one of your cakes? Dry, unappealing, and hard to enjoy?"

"Better than one of your pastries! Light, fluffy, no substance!"

But before the European nations could lunge at each other and cause property damage, Matthew, in a very unhappy voice said, "But I'm male. Biologically and physically. How can this happen?"

Francis tsked. "_Mathieu._ I gave you the entire Talk when you were a colony. Do you not still have the diagrams and models?"

Matthew's expression twisted at the painful memory. "I know how it could've happened." He corrected. "But this is impossible."

"Dudes can have babies." Alfred said comfortingly, rubbing his brother's back.

"Alfred. This is not the same thing." Matthew said flatly. "He has working female reproductive organs."

"But Oprah—"

"No." the Canadian said coldly, effectively shutting up his baby's daddy. "Don't talk or I will rip off your testicles, apologize, and shove them down your throat and apologize again."

"…You don't want to have my baby."

"…I'd rather have your baby than someone else's…" The Canadian admitted grudgingly. "But I still have to tell my Boss."

* * *

"This is all your fault." Prime Minister Harper said, looking somewhat frazzled.

"Fair enough." President Obama replied with a diplomatic nod.

* * *

"So Canada only tops geographically?" Prussia mused, arms crossed behind his head as he tilted back in his chair. "Awesome." He smirked.

Alfred kicked the chair out from under him as he walked by. "Lets keep our hands to ourselves." He suggested with a tight smile as he made his way to the podium. Once he got up there, he smiled widely at the collective nations. "I'm going to be a daddy." He said proudly.

Half of the nations clapped politely, while mentally bemoaning a mini America running around. The other half face palmed at the thought of a mini America running around.

"Thank goodness half of Matthew's genes will be passed on." Arthur said loudly, before turning to Japan and saying, even louder, "He was always the good one—even with his Frenchness."

Matthew, who was stuck in between a gaggle of fawning female nations, merely scowled up at Alfred, looking more pregnant than he should in only a month's time.

Of course, he was a pregnant dude. So maybe it was different with guys. Or something.

"Can I touch your stomach?" Seychelles asked sweetly.

"Fine." Matthew sighed, letting the women entertain their selves by petting the protruding curve of his stomach. "Though I don't think you—"

"I felt a kick!" Belgium squealed.

Matthew restrained himself from saying, "No. You didn't because the baby isn't that formed yet."

As exciting as it was to have a baby, he was still at a loss as to how _exactly _it was going to come out and no one seemed to know or want to know.

And Alfred was already painting a room yellow because it was a "fairly gender neutral color" for his future "baby hero or heroine".

"Now, I'm a fairly traditional guy." Alfred began, leaning forward slightly and smiling charmingly at the nations. "Sometimes, late at night, at that brief moment before the Sandman comes, I feel lonely and empty and want something more from life."

Back up. Rewind. What the _hell_?

"Matthew, by having my baby and not aborting it—even though I half expected it from a liberal, hippie, pink-Commie Socialist like you—you've made me the happiest guy on the planet." Alfred laughed awkwardly, wondering just where the hell all these feelings were crawling out from. So, in an effort to make the atmosphere less mushy and serious and full of feelings, he added, also because he couldn't seem to stop talking for once, "The only way this could get any better is if you agree to marry me and be the 51st state." He laughed loudly and forcedly.

"Okay." Matthew said benevolently, hands folded protectively on his substantially larger stomach.

Alfred's head snapped up so fast that he felt his brain slam up against the top of his skull. "Canada say _what_?"

"I'll marry you." The blond repeated. "I don't want my child to grow up with a distant father-figure. Look at what happened to Quebec and Ontario."

The superpower looked like Russia had just proclaimed his everlasting adoration before slapping him with some pickled cabbage. His mouth open and shut uselessly. "B-but…you don't want to be one with me." He pointed out helplessly. "Not that I don't want you to, but you don't want to and you tend to get angry when I mention it…"

"Alfred, what did I tell you about taking responsibility?" Arthur said sternly, thick eyebrows furrowing together. "Make an honest man out of Matthew or you're grounded."

"You can't ground me!" Alfred retorted. "You haven't been able to make me do anything for over two centuries!" He stepped out from beyond the podium. "What the fuck is going on?" He said loudly.

"Clearly a wedding." Francis stated, holding a glass of red wine. He gestured grandly with the drink towards the priest waiting uncomfortably next to the table. "You remembered the rings, non?"

"No!" Alfred stomped his foot, glaring at the situation that was rapidly becoming very bizarre and straight up weird. "It was a joke, guys. I didn't actually mean Matt and I would get married."

"You…you don't really want to marry me?" Matthew whimpered, looking too pregnant to be real. He wrapped his skinny arms around his stomach, tears already streaming down his cheeks. "Is it because I look like a beached whale?" He wailed, a button on his strained dress shirt popping off and clattering onto the table.

"You bastard." Arthur scolded, the rest of the nations nodded behind him, all wearing disgusted expressions.

"Say good-bye to the rest of your international influence." A flying mint bunny giggled next to his head.

"What the hell?" Alfred screeched, batting away the offending creature.

"Don't use that language in front of our son!" Matthew shouted, covering the ears of a little boy who looked terrifyingly identical to Sealand who waved happily at Alfred.

"…But…but…how did he get out?" the other nation wondered weakly.

"I want to be my own nation, now, Pops!"

Alfred whirled around and saw a now aged version of his and Matthew's supposed offspring. "That's not eve—"

"Recognize me!" His, apparently, son demanded wearing what seemed to be a military uniform. "I've had enough of your tyrannical rule and insane taxes, dude!"

"How do you like it now, you ungrateful twat?" A distinctly British voice cackled.

Alfred could feel a hysterical scream bubbling up in his chest as the now teenage child of his began to chant "Independence" over and over and over.

Then he realized he was standing in just his Bugs Bunny boxer shorts.

* * *

"And that is why we should have complimentary condoms at each world conference. Also, do not eat cheesy poofs right before bed." Alfred finished brightly, shuffling his papers with finality. "So, just to restate, any illegitimate Americas running around are not mine so please go back to assuming that Spain fathered them through dastardly means, by which I, of course, mean rape." He looked around, eyes friendly behind his glasses, "Questions?"

Germany was too busy downing antacids to kick the superpower off the stage.

"Were you dropped on your head as a colony?" South Italy shouted, reclining back in his chair with a scowl.

Francis, on the other hand, turned towards Arthur with a smirk. "He's your son."

"Hardly." Arthur snorted. "You were more than happy to take him back in 1776."

On Arthur's other side, Matthew was cradling his face in his hands, his expression shielded by wheat-colored locks. As Alfred sauntered down from the podium, he ruffled Matthew's hair and dragged the vaguely resisting nation into a hug (surreptitiously groping the nation's flat stomach).

"Not pregnant." Alfred said dreamily, nuzzling his face against Matthew's hair as he reassured himself. "Never."

Matthew decided to mention that not all of Alfred's dream was a dream.

Nor did he say anything about his recent bout of puking before the morning meeting.

* * *

DAILY DOSE OF CRACK Y/Y?

Now, I'm not fond of mpreg (even though I have one unfinished story with that as the main thing lolwhut?) but sometimes I think its a bit funny when its written to be humorous. But this? This has no redeeming value whatsoever except for it was eating my brain. EATING MY BRAIN.

No, I will not be updating wildly like this forever. Enjoy it while it lasts? Ahahaha...-curls up in a corner-


End file.
